Being in the neighbourhood of St. Généviève, now called, “the Pantheon,” I ordered my coachman to drive there.
St. Généviève appears nearly in the same state, in which I saw it, eleven years since; that is to say, quite unfinished. Though the interior is still far from having attained that point of perfection, proposed in the original plan, yet it is even in its present situation, very beautiful. As to the exterior, it is strikingly magnificent. Twenty-two Corinthian pillars form the portico; eighteen of them are 54 feet high. There is a cupola above, where it was intended to have placed a figure of Fame, 28 feet high; but this plan has never been carried into execution. At the extremity of this cupola, there is a gallery raised 166 french feet from the surface of the ground, whence we enjoyed a most extensive view of Paris. This is the best point, from which the town can be seen: and, as there is not here, as in London, that kind of mist which arises from coal fires, the view was uninterrupted. I clearly distinguished from this spot, all the public buildings; and nearly every private house in Paris. It is, in short, a kind of real panorama. The ascent to the gallery is uncommonly easy, up a flight of stone steps, well lighted, and kept in such order, that I have not seen any stairs so clean, since I have been an inhabitant of this great city. The front, which has not suffered at all, during the revolution, has the following words written in large letters, over the principal porch.
“AUX GRANDS HOMMES, LA PATRIE RECONNOISSANTE[54].”
From the scaffoldings erected in different parts of the church, I was led to believe, that orders had been given for the immediate completion of the original plan. I therefore asked my conductor, when he supposed the whole would be concluded. He shrugged up his shoulders, and said, “il faut faire cette question au gouvernement. Vraisemblablement l’église sera achevée, quand le gouvernement aura tant d’argent qu’il ne saura pas en disposer autrement[55].” I am afraid this is putting it off “sine die.”
The dome and ornaments of the stairs are both worked with a degree of nicety, elegance, and care, which would be commended on a snuff-box; and the whole building may be considered as a specimen of good taste and masterly execution.
It will be remembered, that this was the spot in which, at the beginning of the revolution, it was proposed, by burying in its vaults, to confer immortality on such men, as by their talents, their virtues, or their courage, had deserved well of the republic. This idea, like many others, started during the fervour of popular enthusiasm, though splendid in theory, soon became very objectionable in practice. The honours of sepulture in the Pantheon, were contested for by the friends of deceased public men, with the same eagerness as they themselves had displayed during their lives, in the pursuit of the objects of their ambition; and as the merit which entitled an individual to the proposed reward, depended entirely on the capricious estimate of those, who happened to be in power, at the time of his death; the most illustrious, and the most contemptible characters; the virtuous and the corrupt; the hero and the coward; the man of talents, and the ignorant jacobin; the enlightened friend of humanity, and the sanguinary decemvir, received in their turn the honours of the Pantheon. From this strange abuse soon arose another, which, though derived from a better motive, was equally indecent. The bones of those, whom the successful party condemned, were dragged from the tomb, in which they had been placed with so much pomp and parade, perhaps only a year before, and thrown, like the carcases of dogs, on a neighbouring dunghill. Ashamed of having placed the remains of the infamous Marat, near those of Voltaire and Rousseau, the revolutionary demagogues may plead some excuse for this strong, but indecorous testimony of tardy repentance; but the scholar, and the friend of genius will hear, with regret, that the ashes of the eloquent Mirabeau, who (whatever his political faults might be) possessed no common talents, as an orator and a writer, experienced a similar indignity. If his integrity was not sufficiently evident to entitle him to a tomb among the benefactors of his country, yet when it was once erected, his literary merits ought to have saved it from destruction.
To prevent a recurrence of circumstances so little honourable to the french name, a decree was at last past, for clearing away all the monuments erected in the Pantheon, excepting those of Voltaire and Rousseau. These I determined to visit. We accordingly descended into the vaults, which are neat, clean, well lighted, stone apartments, where we found the tombs of these celebrated men. On that of Rousseau only the following words are written:
“Ici répose l’homme de la nature et de la vérité[56];” and a hand with a torch rises from the tomb, with this inscription, “il éclairit le monde même du tombeau[57].”
On the monument of Voltaire, the following epitaph is written on one side.